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Author: Kathleen Gibson

Writer, speaker, and broadcaster, Kathleen Gibson's passions for faith, home, family, and creation are evident in her award-winning writing. The author of two books, West Nile Diary and Practice by Practice, she has also published hundreds of columns and magazine articles in media outlets from local to global. Both her weekly newspaper column, Sunny Side Up, and radio spot, Simple Words, explore the connection between everyday life and Christian faith.

“Mom, come over here. I brought something for you.” I dawdled over to my daughter. “Hold out your hand,” she said thrusting a tightly closed fist toward me. “Uh…does it wiggle?” I asked, remembering other tightly-closed-fist-presents, including those that buzzed and unwound and chased my poise clean away. “Just hold …

“I’m not having a heart attack,” I said. But no one listened. Things move fast when you show up at emergency complaining of chest pain and trouble breathing. So many people checked me out, poking and slapping wires and sticky pads all over the place, that I felt like a …

The Preacher and I raised our two children in parsonages provided by God and the churches we served. We called each house home and filled them all with love, delight, chaos and havoc. (Of the best kind, usually. I’ll save the day I almost set fire to one for another …

The muddle rose from my decision to add colour to our washroom. The room, and everything in it, is white as a Saskatchewan blizzard. At the store, I chose bold navy and green accessories, including two terry bath mats for the floor, and a rubber one that pictured pebbles for …

One of my favourite photos was a drive-by shooting. Pedal-by, more correctly. The sun had just clambered up the eastern sky as my vintage five-speed and I pedaled past a farm lane. I could barely see the farmer through the dense row of trees, but he had a rake; seemed …

After our first winter in our home, at the foot of the clothesline cross, I saw rhubarb being born. A triplet of hard pink knots, closely followed by their leaves, chartreuse and tightly crumpled. Scant weeks after the trio first elbowed their way into spring, they stood half the height …

On the day a wedding was scheduled for our church, I thought of the eggs. A killdeer had laid four of them dead centre in the gravel parking lot. A slight hollow sheltered them not at all, though their speckled coloring camouflaged them well. Hoping to protect the little family, …

God, keep our land glorious and free, we Canadians croon each time sing our national anthem. But what makes a glorious country? I’d almost bet my buttons that at least some of it has something to do with people like Marg and her tribe. I met Marg halfway to God-knows-where, …

Riding high on his Harley, Dwayne had no reason to think about how his life would end or what would come after. Suddenly plastered against the side of a semi-cab, Dwayne had no time to think about how his life would end …

Every so often, when I’m walking alone and the wind is right, I smell the fragrance of my father’s workshop. Sometimes I stop, shut my eyes, and walk into the memory. My father’s body is curved like a bracket beside his table saw; his mouth arranged just so, his small, …